Chess?
by Evanescent Changling
Summary: All Emily wanted to do was find out the truth from the Voice. Turns out, it's easier said than done. With war following her every move, her family constantly in danger and her up-and-down feelings about the Voice's intentions, she's not sure if she's going to be strong enough to face the Elf King... AND the Voice.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Void

"Why do you like to play chess?"

The question clearly took the Voice by surprise, furthermore when she dared peer over his shoulder to watch him play. He was facing an imaginary foe—no longer Emily, but in fact nothing at all. The pieces moved on their own, no support from another player. The child seemed… fascinated.

Emily blinked, leaning over the Voice's ever-shifting shoulders to peer at the small pieces below. "It's such a boring game… and I couldn't ever have the patience for it." She remarked. The chequered board made her eyes confused; the girl shook her head quickly and blinked a couple of times to rid herself of the perplexing patterns. Her hand, sitting restlessly on his left shoulder, pulled back when the Voice turned to look at her. His tearing smile made her uneasy, even when she gave herself some distance from him.

"Well, why do you like to train?" He asked her, no emotion in his voice, just that familiar, cold smile playing his lips. Emily was caught off-guard by his question, still captivated by that eerie grin, even when it disappeared. "Emily?" This time there was expectance in his voice. When she failed to respond to him, he sighed—_sighed_—and turned his entire body to face her. "Why does one bother intruding in my home if she does not like me?" He asked coolly, the smile crawling back—probably for the purpose of creeping the hell out of her.

Whatever the reason, it was working.

"I-I don't know," Emily retorted, eyes narrowing. She inched backwards further when he rose to his full height, towering over her. It wasn't a threatening kind of presence—more a calm entity that strangely soothed her nerves, though she secretly feared him. The Voice took notice of her trembling frame and distanced himself, floating softly. The void had always been a place of her curiosity, even when she found out it was his home. Though it must have been rude for her to come barging in, it seemed that the strange black goo, that took the form of a silhouette, did not mind one bit.

So somehow she found herself drawn to his home once more—in her dreams was when she entered. The void was a center of mysteries, and even the tame Emily could not suppress her curiosity. She felt less threatened by him than ever before.

Perhaps it was because she discovered that even the darkest shadow shared some remorse and morals with the inferior humans. How she knew it was an anonymity, but after their encounter with Max… the Voice had—well, voiced his opinion about the ruthless murders on Max's part. It almost seemed that the shadow was not so dark after all.

But in her mind, he was still a very sinister creature with ill intentions for her and her group. She wanted to know what he was, who he was. What side he was on in this war—whether he was on a side at all. And Emily _would_ find out because she would not be here otherwise.

So she was unfazed when he smiled at her once again, this time not carrying as much malicious properties. "You cannot ask me anything until you are ready. And you are not ready yet." Infuriated, Emily grit her teeth and tried to play by this game of his.

"And what," she drew it out slowly, "would make me ready, exactly?" This time he said nothing, but he beckoned to the chess board. Her eye twitched. "Are you _serious_." He laughed coldly, nodding, and took a seat in front of the table. His gaze burned a hole in her head until the child grudgingly stomped over to a toadstool and plopped her arse down, crossing her arms and huffing at the board. "You go first. I'll watch."

The Voice rearranged the pieces to start over, and moved his black pawn forward two squares. Emily's eyes widened. "Hey! That's cheating!"

He stared at her blankly, the tiniest grin he could hide gently pulling on his mouth. "You've never played chess before. Lucky me." How he instantly could tell she was a newbie made her pissed off. _Damn._ Just as she was about to retort to defend her lack of knowledge for the game, her mouth pursed and Emily looked down in her lap.

"I thought you play fair," she muttered, eyes refusing to look up. God, this was embarrassing. However, the Voice stretched his body over the board so he could grab her attention, his face just inches from her own.

And he nodded. "I do. And I will." Apparently being a spirit prevented him from feeling self-conscious; it was very awkward for the child to be so close to someone's face. Even if he didn't really have much of one. Emily forced a cough, but the spirit only wavered, before it dawned on him and the Voice moved back promptly. "Hmm. I didn't know humans are so aware." He shook his head dismissively, gesturing to the game. "I want a game that's fair and square. We'll do some practices when you have the gist of it. Now come on over, we'll run through the basics."

Emily hesitantly stood and stretched, inching her way to his side slowly and swallowing hard when his gaze returned her own. Then the Voice pointed to one small piece, like a column with a ball stuck on top—"This is a pawn. He can't do much, only move forward one square. Exceptions are at the beginning of the game, when the players first move. Like what I did." He nodded to her, searching for a sign of understanding, but only seeing a look of discomfort.

The Voice continued as if he saw nothing. "When the pawn is diagonal from any piece, he can take over that piece—if that piece hasn't taken him first…"

They went on like this, until the sun fell in the void and they could no longer see. The Voice turned to her promptly when this happened, his tone serious. "Do you understand?" Emily gave a stiff nod.

And the moment she did that, she found herself awakening on the Luna Moth, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.

"Well." She noted to herself. "That was… interesting."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! I decided to do a small story, one about how the Voice is obsessed with chess and how Emily keeps asking about it. ANYway, reviews are appreciated, they keep me going. The other stories I made for this forum are ditched, sorry. I'll leave it to your imagination. But this one is one I won't ditched because for once I'm excited about it!**

**Enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Not Ready

The second time Emily returned to the void, her lips were as pursed as a zipper. They turned pale and a dull purple but she was relentless, as if there was a bounty on her head and she was keeping something locked up within the small vestment of her mouth. Perhaps she was hiding her very own voice. Her eyes were wide and gaunt, almost restless as she took in her eerie surroundings. The idea of Valcor frightened her, but add the void to the mix and Valcor seemed like a living hell. Self consciously, she rubbed the goose bumps crawling up her arms and suppressed a shuddery sigh.

Why wasn't she back in the forest that they had played chess in the night before? It was much more relaxing and easy to maintain her nerves of steel, but here they were just putty. Her legs felt like jelly, almost as if they would buckle at any second. And her face supported a look of vague uneasiness. Perhaps this location unnerved her because of what took place last time. Emily wondered vaguely if Max's skeleton was still laying in the temple. She shuddered at the thought of it.

A chuckle sounded behind her, and Emily paused at the long stretch of stairs leading up into the temple. The Voice had startled her, but she was also grateful, as the former thought of seeing Max's corpse had made her stomach churn. She was grateful to have an excuse not to enter. "I sense your unease, little one," the spirit purred, his voice sending chills running up and down her spine. Emily trembled, but grit her teeth and tried to turn that fear—that wobbly, useless fear—into rage. But unlike those other encounters with the Voice, she was restricted to do so.

So she played his game of cat and mouse, unable to switch their roles for even a second. Her legs buckled, breath hitched. Emily forced herself to stay strong, to not crumple to the ground, even if the Voice's unpredictability frightened her. "Don't do that, for God's sake! It scared the living hell out of me!" Emily gasped, straightening herself promptly and turning to meet his steady gaze. Once she realized what she had said, the child desperately covered her mouth. The Voice simply bore his gaze at her shaking legs, and—for the first time ever—frowned.

"Do you fear me?"

Emily shook her head furiously. _No, no, no._ God, this spirit was one hell of a mind-reader. Another reason for her to be scared. "No," she insisted redundantly, hoping, yearning that he hadn't sensed this lie. Hell if she knew what he would do if he found out. She came in with more worries than she left with last night. But not all of which were directed towards the Voice. "I… told Trellis about our chess game last night," she confessed. The Voice tilted his head. "He got angry… he wouldn't let me nap the entire day until Enzo kicked his ass for me."

"I see," the Voice responded emotionlessly. "And you fear that Trellis disapproves of your curiosity of the void?" Emily nodded, adding,

"More than just disapproves. It's like having an annoying older brother that thinks he's protecting me from the evil in the world—when, in fact, the real threat is his father." Emily rubbed her arms again, this time chewing her bottom lip. "I realized that you weren't really evil… you're just… an _imp_." He grinned at her terminology, but didn't argue. She went on to elucidate: "Everything you do isn't for your benefit—it's for your amusement. At least, that's how I see it. You liked to tease me a lot when I first got the amulet. And you seemed to _really_ like pissing me off," she smirked at him.

Emily continued on. "But when I got my mom back and she was sick, I squeezed the amulet tight because I was angry. You strangled me in response. It scared me at first, but then I got thinking: maybe the amulets were your real physical form? Maybe when I squeezed it, I was squeezing you too. And when you choked me, it wasn't to hurt me—it was self-defence." After she poured her thoughts out, it dawned on her that her fear had melted away, leaving the unease from the night before. Truly, he must have had _some_ ill will, but not in the way of killing her.

The Voice smiled, and once again it unnerved her. "You are a very smart young girl. Aforementioned, I really have no doubt you'll figure things out on your own." And that was all he said. He swayed and shifted; Emily found his spiritual form a lot more graceful and wonderful to look at. "Would you like to play?" He inquired. By this point they were both sitting at the foot of the staircases. Emily hesitantly looked up at the temple, and glanced back at the Voice. He shook his head. "Not there anymore. Don't worry."

Her fears at ease, Emily awkwardly nodded to his request and he tore through the air, clearly to beat her to the temple and set things up. Emily gave one look at the flight of stairs and sighed with exasperation. "You've gotta be kidding me."

* * *

That jerk-wad wasn't kidding at all. She climbed the long distance filled with one step after the other, tempting her with her unease. It was like each stage was a reminder of where Max met his fate. And the Voice left her to climb that mountain of a staircase. What a butt. Emily grumbled under her breath, infuriated that she had to climb such a feat but it felt like years to accomplish. At least she was finally at the top. Her left foot touching the top step, the twelve-year old glanced around, her eyes shifting like quicksilver. The place seemed… different than last time. Almost darker, as black as night though it was the crack of dawn in the void.

"Weird…" She confessed, her voice but a whisper. "Last time it was so much brighter. And now…"

The Voice's sound carried across the low winds. "And now it is darker." It seemed, for once, that there was an edge to his voice. "Humans rely on light and familiarity to be content. If left in darkness, they panic, because they cannot see anything familiar to keep them comfortable. That's why I brought you here—but it seems that you too have succumbed to human nature. I suppose I shouldn't have expected so much from a child." For once, Emily readily agreed with the Voice, feeling the unnerving tingles crawling down her spine. "Are you ready for your first game?"

"No." Emily said bluntly. "I probably will never be until I start." Perhaps it was her imagination, but the child thought her ears could perceive a faint, soft laugh carried through the breeze. A laugh that belonged not to the Voice… nor anyone else for that matter. It was far too sweet to be the Voice. "Did you hear that?" She inquired, making her way into the temple supported by beautiful Corinthian columns. When her eyes spotted the Voice's body, she stared at him expectantly, but he failed to look at her—his face was fixated on the board.

"Let us begin." He declared. Startled that he had ignored her question, Emily's rich brown eyes widened.

_I… take that as a no?_ Perplexed, the child closed the distance between her and the chess board, and a small chair—an ordinary, kitchen-looking chair—was drawn up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see a small shadow creature, one that she had encountered when they first began their game in Ceilis. "I thought I popped you." Emily voiced her thoughts frankly, staring down at the creature with unease. In response, it flashed her a splitting smile and hobbled off into the darkness. Unnerved by that grin, the girl sat herself on the chair that the creature had politely brought and scooted forward, her eyes focused on the strange chess pieces.

"Do you remember how to play?" The Voice asked her quietly. Emily nodded, hesitating at first, but became more confident in her ability and smiled. He returned the grin, adding, "I'll start first, then?" Again she nodded.

His fingers coiled around a pawn and moved it two squares forward. Emily copied this move in her turn, making her pawn diagonal from his so she could sweep his out in her next turn. However, he beat her to it, collecting her pearly white pawn and setting it beside the board. Emily looked at the Voice in dismay. "Aww, but… I was gonna do that…" she whined. The Voice smiled mischievously. Emily gazed at her board and moved her next piece when he spoke up.

"How has your progress been with the Elf King? Have you or Trellis been training for the final fight?" His question took her by surprise, so much that she glanced up at him with round eyes.

"I thought you knew _everything_." She confessed, eyes still wide and unblinking. The Voice could not resist a laugh.

"Sometimes. I cannot watch you, Trellis, or keep an eye on the Elf King all at the same time, you know!" He chuckled, and his voice was so warm, that it almost made the child relax. Emily moved her next piece, before contemplating her answer.

"Well, Trellis has been raising his attack stats… I have been raising my defence. I have been told that I'm too concerned with attacks that I don't notice how bad my defence mechanisms are." She smiled awkwardly. "I don't suppose you know what that's like, since you don't exactly do much yourself but observe…" The Voice gazed at her gently, then moved his knight up on square.

"There is a lot you do not know about my actions. In time you will realize that I do more than one thinks. But yes," he smiled, "It's like playing Sims." Bewildered, Emily's head shot up and she looked at him sharply. His grin grew impossibly wide. "I know of many things in both dimensions. I live in one's memories, and those contain two worlds—not just one." She felt an amused grin play her lips to match his own.

"That's… funny." She chuckled awkwardly, pushing her queen diagonally left. _I never thought he could be amusing_. She had to admit, the thought of the Voice cracking jokes was the strangest thing she's ever heard of. It would take a while for her to get used to. "I want to know more about… Max, if—"

"I told you. You are not ready." The Voice interrupted. His sharp remark made her grind her teeth together, and angrily, she shoved another pawn forward. Unfortunately, this was a decision made by her brash impulse and the Voice quickly took it out. This fed her fury to the point where she could not contain it.

"_Why am I not ready! What will make me ready?!_" Emily cried. The Voice smiled at her calmly, watching her twitching fingers shove another knight.

He simply moved his queen forward. One word escaped his mouth. "Checkmate."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Thocivee

Emily had been sporting, for a good while, a single train of thought—a thread of emotion; an overwhelming frustration. The morning she had awakened from the void, she had been astonished to feel the angry tears rolling on down her skin like quicksilver. But as mentioned in such a matter, they dried on her parched cheeks, disappearing into nothingness. Quick as lightning, the girl jumped to her feet and bolted down the corridors of the Luna Moth to reassure herself that no one was awake yet to see her red, puffy face. She then slid into the bathroom to scrub her face down good and well.

Since that morning, His grinning face had been following her like some sort of ghostly repetition. Emily shuddered, her dark mind haunted by the spirit's devilish smile. It was like He wanted her to fear Him, yet not in a way they could not directly speak to one another. She remembered what He had said to Max. _Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? The Elf King is no one you should take lightly! And, for that matter… Neither am I._

What if she took Him lightly—would He hurt her to convince her otherwise? She was scared to think about it.

Emily leaned her spine into the curve of the boulder amongst other things; moss, plant life, a flowing creek—it was no wonder Rico was so enthusiastic about landing in the moors. Truly it was a beautiful place, just like Silas had told her.

_Silas…_ Her heart almost stopped, and for a split second, all the anxiety she had felt melted away into raw, terrifying fear. It was he whom had advised she listen to the stone. It was he whom convinced her young mind that the Voice would grant her anything she'd ever wanted—but Silas had not informed her that the Voice would demand something in return.

Of course, she told herself, there would have always been a catch. She knew that already, but still… Was Silas so blind in his eternal longing for time-travel that he failed to see the darkness of the Voice? Or… was he, too, tricked? She sighed, rubbing her sore neck, rolling it on the smooth rock supporting her.

"Too much thinking… Not enough doing…" She muttered begrudgingly. "The Voice hasn't let me back into the void since three days ago! What does he think will make me ready?" Scoffing, Emily slid down until her legs were dangling in the cool waters and gazed at her reflection.

The long, scarlet hair she sported had been unkempt, but Emily didn't mind it. There had been so many dire things going on that she didn't even bother concerning herself about appearance. Her eyes were brown. A dull brown. Funny, she hadn't looked in a mirror for quite some time. Her nose was long, but not noticeably, and her mouth was pursed. Ultimately, her face was so pale, it was obvious she hadn't gotten much sleep since that morning.

_Young master, _He murmured in her ear. It was like He was right beside her.

"Hello," Emily responded hoarsely. Her voice was too thick with emotion to say anything else without being overwhelmed.

_My oh my. How have I frightened you so? You look so pale,_ He remarked with amusement. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought His concern over her health was genuine.

Emily scoffed, throwing a crotchety glare at the stone. "My oh my," she mocked. "You've finally decided to talk to me! You… you—" But she had no words to describe her overbearing frustration towards his riddles and puzzles. Chewing her lip, Emily looked away, her face burning with resentment.

_Ooh, someone's angry,_ He teased softly. _Alas… I am not here to play your game. You are here to play mine!_

"What game?" she asked irritably.

She pictured Him grinning, followed by, _Chess, of course. What else, Sherlock?_

Growling, Emily crossed her arms and looked around the moors. There was nothing but the endless stretch of highlands and vast distances. "Nice try, but there isn't anything to play with here. Besides—you only exist in the void and in the stones. How will you play?" She heard His soft chuckle, and it was so warm… she resisted smiling, almost pathetically reminding herself that she was supposed to be hating him right now.

_We are going to play a mind game._ He explained gently, _Picture the board in your mind. Keep it solid until you see the pieces form themselves. Then we will play._ Emily closed her eyes to concentrate on the chequered platform on which they'd played before.

On instinct, she asked, "Is the board 8x8?" This time, the Voice full-out laughed.

_You are focusing too much on the mechanics! By God, I might just burst with information if I don't die laughing first!_ Emily's face flushed red with anger and humiliation. But ultimately, there were tears filling her eyes, though she dared not show them.

"I haven't ever done this before," she muttered hoarsely. "I-I just wanted…"

_… Yes, dear, _The Voice had immediately trailed off His amusement, now awkwardly acknowledging the verge of emotion Emily was tilted on. _Eight by eight. _He said nothing else, just waited for her to create a game in the midst of her mind. She focused, gazing at the chequered board in rapture, before floating pieces drifting across her mind.

"Is that you?" She breathed.

He appeared as her opponent on the other side of the game, and He nodded to her. _Your move._ He told her.

Emily forced a pawn two squares forward. "You've never called me that before." She said quietly.

_Hmm? _He gazed up at her innocently.

"…_Dear_," she tested it on her tongue. "You… you called me _dear_." The Voice stared at her for a split second, before nodding slowly.

_I guess I did._

Emily shook her head in her mind, desperately trying to make a point, "You _never_ call me that."

This time, he merely smiled, toothy and wide—but, unlike the other times he had, this one beam didn't scare her. _I have never seen you cry,_ He confessed. _And… I took a paternal approach. Trust me, I'm a bit confused too._

Paternal.

The one word she couldn't stand hearing. It reminded her too much of what she had lost.

They played for a while, falling into silence, before the Voice quipped, _Do you not like that name?_ Emily was surprised to hear the subtle concern in his voice, but told herself it very well could be a hoax.

"I… don't mind it," she said, and she spoke the truth. "It… it's painful, though. There's only two other people in the world who would call me that, and one of them is dead." She gently pushed her imaginary knight forward. "Sometimes it's just… hard, that's all." He had listened with either considerate silence, or He felt obliged to remain vigil. Either way, Emily was grateful for the silence on His end.

_I see,_ The Voice said finally, after a pregnant pause. And that was all He could manage. His graceful, spider-like fingertips flicked; gestured for His queen to advance towards her king. This time, Emily was ready, and knocked His shady queen out using a mere pawn.

"HAH! Gotcha!" She crowed triumphantly.

The Voice could not resist another smile, this time proud and approving. _Well done,_ He purred. _But this is not over yet._ Emily took His apt warning seriously, squinting her eyes for more concentration.

"What can I call you?" Emily asked him. She'd been wanting to put a name to His face since the first time she'd seen it. The Voice moved another insignificant piece forward, and glanced up at her.

_You may call me Thocivee. Borne of the Motherstone, Guardian of Lost Souls—or, you may call me Death. Warden of Lost Memories and those who have had their passing._

"Wow," Emily breathed, not sure if she should be frightened by His presence or in awe of it. "I think I'll call you Thocivee. It's not as… um, _dark_." She heard his chuckle, and could not oppose a smile.

"You said _Borne_ of the Motherstone," Emily realized, "So does that mean… You're it's offspring? It created you?" Thocivee smiled at her, cold and barren, and it was clear that he was not going to answer as per their deal.

_You have yet to be ready, _He reminded her gently. Emily felt her blood boil with impatience, but she forced herself to be calm. He sensed her unease. _Do not worry. It will be soon. But, for now…_

Thocivee grinned mischievously and angled his knight forward. _Checkmate._

* * *

Emily opened her eyes, and was startled to see that the world around her was at evening tide. The sun was disappearing on the skyline, leaving fiery trails of scarlet and vermillion on it's clouds. Taking her numb feet out of the creek, Emily blinked, still taken aback. "Man," She said to her stone, "When you play, you _really play_." She could hear Thocivee's mild chuckle filling her ears.

Emily crawled to her feet, tossing her satin cape behind her, and strolled back to the parked Luna Moth where an anxious Rico awaited her.

When he saw her, Rico leapt to his feet from being plopped in the grass and emerged from a dazed thought.

"I was scared you might not open your eyes," he informed her worriedly as she approached, "Your stone was glowing and you seemed distressed, but none of us could get you to open your eyes. So… they went back inside until you came back with me—by Enzo's orders, of course. Leon said you were fighting the stone again." Emily smiled, thankful for Rico's concern. '_Fighting the stone!'_ She said telepathically to Thocivee. _'If by fighting they mean one hell of an intense chess match, they were right!'_ This time, there was only silence—the stone was no longer aglow.

For a split second, Emily felt disappointment. Rico noticed this, and frowned nervously. "Emily, are you okay?" the feline demanded. "If the stone made you sick, we could go to Kanalis for something on our way to Valcor," Hurriedly, Emily shook her head, grabbing his hands firmly.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the concern, Rico. I appreciate it." She gave him a quick hug and bounded up the flight of steps to the Luna Moth, leaving a perplexed cat-man behind.

For now, she wanted—no, _needed_—to find Lugar.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner! See, I'm taking a course called "spartacus" and it's killing me. So when I come home I'm practically dead. So.. yeah.**

**Anyway, what did you think? T'was a little rushed towards the end, I know. Let me know your thoughts! Give me some constructive-critism! Hell, chuck me an OC if you want! Read and review, my friends!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Not Alone

Emily pushed past Leon and Miskit, who were oddly conversing amongst each other for once, and was about to get inside the Luna Moth when a hand caught her shoulder, dragging her back. She was met with a pair of brilliant glowing eyes, ones that were narrowed with suspicion and another vague emotion she could not put a name to. "You went into the void again." Trellis growled angrily, thrusting her back. Emily stumbled back from his force, staggering for her bearings before glaring up at him, furious eyes brooding.

"So what if I was?" she demanded. "It isn't going to hurt anyone to find out the truth." The wind was vicious that evening; it howled against the floating ship and ripped Trellis's pale hair. The elven stonekeeper ignored its ferocity, fixating his hardened gaze on Emily, as if waiting for her to explain herself further. Emily clarified, "I first went there to talk. Nothing else. I swear. But then he was like, 'come play chess' and I was like 'sure why not' and he was like—"

"Spare me the details, Emily." He snarled. Her lips tightened, pursed and sealed. "He invited you to a game of chess? And you _agreed?_" Emily sanded her teeth together, ignoring the stares of Leon and Miskit as they stood by and watched the encounter. "Have you forgotten that this was the thing that killed my father and turned him into a monster? How can you believe anything that he has to say, after he lied to all of us? How do you know that each move you made in that chess game didn't effect reality?"

"It didn't," Emily hissed lividly. Trellis bared his teeth.

"How would you know?" he shot back.

"Because we played more than once!" She cried. This was it. She had just confessed to the most sinful of things she could ever do. What would he say? Would he call her a traitor? Just as the thoughts drilled into her head, Trellis widened his eyes, staggering backward. His entire body was stiff, face aghast, everything about him screamed, '_What?_'

"You… what have you done, Emily?"

She didn't wait any longer. Pushing past Trellis, she raced down the Luna Moth's balcony and collided with Rico, nearly bringing them both down. He had been waddling along with a heavy basket being hauled in his thin arms. It was full of clean, folded laundry that was immediately set askew when she knocked into him. Groaning, Emily sat up, and Rico leapt to his feet, desperately trying to gather the laundry before they were carried away in the wind. Despite the accident, he had somehow maintained a jolly persona.

"Don't forget that dinner's at five—" His cheery reminder was cut short when she rose to her feet and shovelled on through, nearly knocking the laundry hamper from his hands once more. Startled, Rico glanced over his shoulder and gazed after her, watching her scarlet hair whip in the turbulent winds. "What was that all about?"

Emily hurried down the southern end of the ship, pressing her back against the wall as she caught her breath. "Damn Trellis… Doesn't mind his own business…" She huffed angrily. From her view, she could see the horizon slowly drawing a blanket of navy up to swallow the sky. Few silver speckles dotted the image, shining brilliantly despite the violent winds roaring around her. If she had known the path to Valcor would be this turbulent, she would have considered another way of transportation. _Maybe a transpore?_ She wondered vaguely. She hadn't quite learned what transpores were, but from Navin's description they sounded handy.

Her breath replenished, the child withdrew from the wall just as it began to shift—only for her to realize that it wasn't a wall at all, but a door. Humiliated, Emily paced back a little for the person behind to properly exit the room. "Emily?" Lugar's puzzled voice both startled and relieved her. Lugar could help her. Turning to greet his pale face, the girl grinned.

"Hi." She said. He frowned at her in chastisement.

"You shouldn't be out in weather like this. Do you know how dangerous it is? I know that Trellis is out there somewhere, but you just got back from the void—" She gingerly stepped by him into the welcoming warmth of the Luna Moth's living quarters, ignoring the last sentence. _They think they know but they don't._ She said to herself bitterly. _They think I'm stupid enough to think I can believe everything the Voice says. But he knows that I know he lied to me, and he promised, __**promised,**_ _that he would tell me everything in return when I'm… ready. That's a chance I'm willing to bet on._

"Emily!" Karen exclaimed. Emily glanced up to see her mom lounged on a love seat, a book of some genre in her hands. Though the child felt welcomed by her mother's presence, for some reason she also felt a nagging guilt. As if she was keeping a secret—and that wasn't far from the truth. Her mother had no idea what the Voice was, or what he had done. Smiling for a greeting, Emily turned back to Lugar; the elf closed the door after feeling a sense of urgency from her.

The elder gently guided Emily to a seat by the fireplace, gingerly taking a seat beside her. "Is something wrong?" he coaxed gently. Emily nodded breathlessly, hesitating—what if Lugar would tell Trellis about her experiences in the void? Had Lugar ever been to the void as a stonekeeper? Had he even encountered the Voice? Suddenly, with a knot of fear in her stomach, Emily was not so sure of what she was doing. "Emily?" He prompted. She looked at him nervously, uncertain, but her mouth opened without consent and she found herself blurting out everything.

"I wanted to know about… the stones. And the void. And the voices that one of your Elf Kings had begun to hear in the past. And… A lot of stuff…" Good thing Trellis told her about his experience in the void with his uncle. However, the thought of Trellis infuriated her, and she put her head in her hands. Sighing, she fell back into the sofa and rolled her head backwards to face the ceiling. "Also, I want to learn about chess." The last request seemed a little odd for Lugar, but he shrugged it off nonchalantly. Emily watched as he stood, brushing himself off, and left for the corridor leading to his and his younger brother's room.

"I'll be right back," He promised. She took his word for it, twiddling her thumbs subconsciously until his return.

When he _did_ come back, however, she was astonished to see one of Silas's published novels in his arms. "This will have most of the information that you seek," he enlightened her. "Silas was a very odd man with very odd theories, but most stonekeepers, such as myself, found them strangely accurate. He has information on the void, references to the first Elf King to hear voices, the havoc it created, and the potential of stones. Sadly, there is no information on the Voice itself, or the chess game that it is oddly addicted to." Lugar chuckled a little, shaking his head. Emily's eyes widened. So he _had_ met the Voice!

He took a seat beside her, and together they went through the book piece by piece while Karen looked on curiously. "Here, it says the voice heard by the first king to hear it was characterized as _female_," Lugar's eyes seemed to widen in astonishment. "What other spirit is out there besides the Voice?" Emily's heart was pounding. So the Voice wasn't behind these occurrences… but who the hell _was_? "However, the void is governed by the Voice…" _because it's his home,_ Emily nodded silently. Lugar shook his head in confusion.

"Well, this changes things drastically," he told her, rubbing his temples. Emily thought about the Voice's names. _Thocivee and Death_.

"He… told me his real names. He has two." Emily explained, catching Lugar's attention. "The first one was Thocivee… Borne of the Motherstone and Guardian of Lost Souls…" _The way he gave Max a second chance… He helped me get my mother back…_ It was beginning to make sense. Thocivee was the contrary of this… female voice. He undid her doing. He mended what was broken. He was their Guardian—he protected them. Suddenly, Emily's perspective of the Voice took on a whole new light.

Lugar looked at her incredulously. "He trusted you enough to tell you that?" She nodded. "And… what was the other name?" He began probing through the book furiously in attempt to find these names.

"Death…" Emily murmured. "His other name was Death, Warden of Lost Memories and those who have had their… passing." Was he taking care of Max? Of Ronin and Pierce and David Light?

Was he taking care of her father?

Suddenly, Emily was okay with calling him Death, too.

"Death?" Lugar choked. Emily looked at him with wide brown eyes. "H'boy. This will take another book entirely." The elf rose to his feet and gently placed the book on top of the fireplace, reaching for another atop the bookshelf. "Maybe Rico has it. I hear he likes mythology, the little dreamer!" Grunting, Lugar caught it by his index finger and dragged it over the edge, carrying it back to where Emily was positioned on the sofa. "There's no images in this, but I think it might have some of what you named in here."

He sat down again, and this time, Emily eagerly took the book from his hands and scored through it. _Thocivee… Death… Whoever you are, I'm going to find you. And I'm going to listen._ She thought with determination.

To her dismay, the book was written entirely in Elven language. How the hell would Rico be able to read this? As if reading her mind, Lugar chuckled. "If there are two official languages in Alledia, it's English and Elven." Scoffing, Emily returned the book to him, and he took the search from there.

"I found it," Lugar said in less than a minute. Looking at him incredulously, Emily's eyes widened when she looked at the page. It meant nothing to her, since she knew only one language, but clearly, it was important to Lugar. His eyes widened ever so slightly with interest. "Death and Thocivee are under the same name." Her heart skipped a beat with excitement.

"Death is, and always will be, inevitable. But that does not mean he has ill-wishes for those who oppose him. He waits until they are truly ready to know both ugly truth and wonderful lie—then shows them what they have wanted to see. In that sense, Death has also been known as a voice to warn you of times to come soon. If you are not ready for your impending doom, he will wait, and spare you more time until you are." Lugar shook his head. "That's all it says. It's a myth, but I suspect it is also close to truth. You'd better ask him."

Emily shook her head. "He won't tell me anything. He says I'm not ready."

"Hmm," Lugar mumbled. "Maybe you'll be ready soon. When you are, be prepared for the answer."

* * *

Thocivee, distracted, sat along in the midst of the Gurdon forest, back against a tall oak. His featureless face seemed to be looking elsewhere than the void itself, almost fighting against the gloomy skies and dark mists swirling around him. Though it was comfortable and warm, a chill ran up his spine. "Something's wrong," he muttered. "But I can't yet see what it is." His shady form pressed harder against the stump, hands pushing back. For the first time in what felt like ages, the Voice was insecure about his plan.

"V-Voice?" Emily's frightened call echoed in the darkness. "There's… there's something wrong here!" Thocivee could hear a soft tremor in her voice, and he felt pity. There was something plaguing his home, and it both frightened and welcomed him into the warm darkness. He listened to her cautious steps, aware that she was feeling for something solid among the forest. And, well, she ended up feeling him by accident.

She stumbled over his form, landing on his outstretched humanoid legs. Emily, startled from her landing, looked up to see the familiar glowing symbol plaguing his face and smiled in relief. "Oh… Whoops." Sheepishly, she drew away, using his light to find somewhere to sit beside him in the unfathomable darkness. "This mist…. I, I have a bad feeling about this. It was making me cold. It still is, actually. Look, feel my arm." The child offered up her limb, rippling with goose bumps, and the Voice could feel icy waves throbbing from it.

"Hmm." He said. He found himself unable to make much sound, as if this plague was beginning to effect him too, and not just the void. Thocivee shuddered inwardly at the thought. This is not was Silas predicted. Emily was staring at him, her dull brown eyes boring into his face, masking a look of confusion. "What is it?" Thocivee asked defensively. Emily, jaw slack, quickly closed it and looked away.

"Nothing," she muttered at his edgy tone, curling away from him quietly. The Voice gazed downward, heaving a sigh as he coiled a dark appendage of himself around her insecure figure, gently nudging her. He was silent, but the gesture said more than he ever could. The child hesitantly leaned in, favouring his strange company over the shadowy mists. "Do you know what's going on?" she whispered uncertainly, eyes looking out, straining her eyes to catch just a glimpse of… well, anything. Thocivee shook his head.

"Something is occurring in my home. I suspect the Elf King, but I cannot be certain." He explained. Emily nodded slowly, taking the plausible theory in. She blinked up at him curiously, opening her mouth to inquire him, but the Voice chuckled. "Not ready yet." Flustered, Emily huffed and crossed her arms like a spoiled child, glaring at the hardly-visible floor. "_Not yet. You will be soon._ Do you remember those words?" Thocivee asked her quietly.

Emily nodded, "When you were warning me of the humble hall of kings?" the Voice smiled despite the bleak darkness. The child's face was blessed with a reflecting grin. "It wasn't just for that, was it? It was also to ask you for answers… to everything. To know what you knew." She lowered her gaze, clasping her hands together to twiddle her thumbs. "I have to beat you in chess in order to be ready, don't I?" the Voice looked over at her uncertain face, tightening his hold on her reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I'm actually not that good at playing. Silas was… excruciatingly better." She detected a mockery of bitterness in his voice and, for the first time, laughed in front of him. The unease she had felt when they first began to meet up was beginning to ebb away over time. "However," he added with a slight grin, "I have had plenty of practice to atone for my… underdeveloped skills. As planned…" Oddly, his face turned and gazed into the endless gloom, his mind miles away.

"Thocivee?" Emily roused him from his existential-deep thoughts. "Are you okay?" The Voice promptly looked at her and forced a wide smile. "Okay, creepy as usual. That's a good sign." After that remark, there was no need for a fake smile—he was practically splitting sides with laughter. Emily, startled, leaned away, watching the him with round eyes. _Wow_. She thought. _So he __**can**__ laugh._ She felt her lips curve up into a small grin, as Thocivee gathered himself and leaned back against their tree stump, panting.

"I haven't laughed like that in ages," he gasped, breathless. "Never make me do that again." Emily considered this and smiled maliciously. Thocivee looked directly at her and yelped, "Don't even think about it—" She dove forward and onto his chest, beginning to run her quick fingers along and tickling him. He laughed louder, crawling away in an effort to escape the tickle nuisance, "Stop! I command you!" His attempt at authority failed, and Emily leapt onto his back and clung on playfully.

The tickling stopped, but the Voice was no novice at plotting revenge—with her on his back, he kneeled and leaned backwards, squashing her like a potato between him and the oak tree. "Gotcha," he panted. Emily groaned, her complains muffled by his back.

"Not… Fair…" She was saying. Grunting, Emily pushed him away (tasering him for good measure, of course) and leaned back just as the Voice took a place beside her. They both looked out into the turbulent mists, not saying a word. Emily felt chills crawl up her spine at the swirling masses, heartbeat fluttering faintly. There was only a pause of silence before she sighed. "What is it, exactly?" She prayed to god he wouldn't obnoxiously tell her that she "wasn't ready." Luckily, he turned his head to see her, not about to reject an answer.

"It's me." The Voice said.

Emily nearly choked on her own spit. "_You?_"

"Yes. Well, yes and no. You see, like Max said, I am a shadow creature. But not just that—I am more of an epidemic. At least, that's what I'm told. Something that infects all stones to the point where only I can be the operator—the one who connects the stones telepathically. When that happens, you can easily communicate with nearby stonekeepers, and myself for that matter." The Voice hesitated. "When the endemic operator's form is manipulated, it can work with or against him. I just wish I knew who was messing with me. So far it is not doing anything immoral, so I'll assume the best until proven otherwise." Though Emily hardly grasped what he was confidently trying to say, she thought she heard a faint trace of doubt in his voice.

Hesitantly, Emily reached out with her hand and gingerly touched his arm. "I think it's just an imp." She said. His familiar smile returned, and unlike the many times before, it didn't scare her at all. A thought occurred to her, "Do you want to play chess while we wait this out?" To her surprise, the Voice rejected the idea, gazing vaguely out into the sea of darkness with a wave of irrationality echoing his every move. "This is really bothering you, huh." There was no need to be sure—she could tell in the way he moved.

"Let me tell you a story," he suggested. "I assure you it will not bore you—" With a glance over his shoulder, he paused, engrossed with Emily's fake-sleeping form, with loud, "bored" snores crawling from her mouth. "… Ha-ha. Very funny. No, really. Cease this behaviour, you disrespectful runt." Chuckling at his despair, Emily sat up and met his gaze full on. "Good," Thocivee smirked. "Now that I have your _full attention_…"

And he began.

"Once there was a world full of creatures of the dark, each shape and size unique. Each creature was an individual of a different persona, but they all had one thing in common: they loved to wreak havoc and prey on mortals."

"Hmm," Emily smirked, "Sounds like someone I know." The Voice playfully nudged her, _hush_.

"They lived in this world, an alternate version of your planet Earth… They lived in Alledia long before the existence of light and the Motherstone. They never meant any harm by their recreational activities; it was merely something to pass the time. However… Humans were the main target of their disturbance, and the shadow creatures were often hunted and killed for this cause." He paused, as if lamenting over a ghostly loss, before hesitantly continuing.

"But one day… something wonderful and curious appeared, as if sent by the Gods. This was the Motherstone. With it, the humans drove the shadow creatures into another world borne of the Motherstone, forever condemning them to this fate. To ridicule them further, when they dared enter Alledia again, the shadow creatures were fated to one identical form: blobs of pink. These forms were thought to be harmless, but as your brother Navin has discovered, it is not so.

"For a while, the shadow creatures lived in the darkness they called the void. It was frightening and new; they had lost their old world to creatures that did not understand their nature. The Motherstone guided them through the darkness with a light she could provide for both worlds… which is… me." Emily looked up at him with a small, sympathetic smile. Who knew the horrors he had had to face? Who knew how many wars he had endured? It was no wonder he was so hungry for power… a power that could protect him and those he loved from facing a fate like warfare.

The Voice continued quietly. "And for ages I helped recreate the world around them, I recreated it in the image of their old world so they would not feel out of place. It was peaceful once again until centuries later, when undeveloped stonekeepers intruded our home, that we were forced to take action.

"You see, upon their entry of the void, the void immediately adapted itself to their woes. It took their memories of sadness and lament and recreated them, almost as if one were living a movie. We didn't like the interference… so we manhandled the one responsible, which was the third Erlking. All we did was warn him through the amulet of prying, but someone else took it a bit… farther, and… somehow created mayhem upon the humans, but much more violently and certainly not in the manner we used to. She created war."

Emily could have sworn she saw the Voice shudder. "Anyway…" he muttered without his usual formality, "that's enough of a history lesson for today… Better wrap this up before my brain goes berserk and I reveal too much… Old age really gets to you, I guess, even if I'm in the prime time." The girl, concerned, stared at the spirit bleakly. Nothing she said could reassure his worries because she was not ready to know them. But she could tell from the way he spoke that he was growing tired—tired of responsibility, tired of his problems, tired of life.

So she did something she never thought she'd ever do.

Emily leaned forward and gently slipped into the Voice's arms, burying her head against his shoulder. "Everything will be okay." She promised softly. Thocivee hesitated, paralyzed with shock, until he gradually accepted her comfort and smiled gently.

"How can I protect my people without turning into an even _bigger_ monster?" He murmured quietly. The child gave him the slightest of smiles, withdrawing only to look him directly in the face. Maybe she didn't need to know the whole truth in order to know how to comfort this creature.

"It's like what I told you when Lugar was still trying to kill us." Emily responded. He gazed at her with a grin, even when she said it out loud,

"By not fighting alone."

* * *

**A/N: A'ight. So I haven't updated in a while, here's a double-long chapter. Hope you enjoyed, I've been working on it for a while, on and off. Read and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Wrong Again

_The sequence._

_It was happening over and over again, on repeat like a broken recorder. They made no sound and she heard nothing, saw only the scene playing once more. The elf assassin. The puzzle. A blast of energy—then meeting Max for the first time. Then, like quicksilver, the scene repeated itself, but there was something about this one time that made her stomach knot up in fear. And it wasn't because her ears suddenly unplugged and her hearing returned._

_The scene was dark, almost an inky black. Like something was watching her. Slime oozed from the shadows, and when Emily turned, she could have sworn she saw brilliant blue eyes glowing from the darkness, but it was replaced with nothingness. She looked back to the scene, where she watched from third person view, as her past self, Trellis and the assassin had a face-off. "That amulet has an agenda of its own," Gabilan snarled at past-Emily, who was burning up with hatred. "Once it's finished with you…" His burning eyes smouldered ashes right through her skull, tension thick like butter. His sneer was weak and before the girl blasted him off the tiny floating island, his eerie murmur stung her ears._

_"You'll die like the rest."_

_And from third person, she didn't know what came over her. Be it terror or the sudden fear he was right, she did something she never thought she was capable of._

_Emily screamed._

"**_NOOO!_**" Wailing, the girl bolted upright from her dream sequence and her bestial eyes bore desperately into the darkness in front of her. Her chest heaved with raspy breath, her hoarse throat sore from crying in her sleep. "N-no," Emily sobbed, her hands covering her delicate face, sniffing while she wiped the gushing tears from her dark eyes. "No, no, no, no." She repeated it over and over, lamenting about Gabilan's words. The Voice wouldn't do that. _Thocivee_ wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kill her. Would he?

Would he?

The roaring silence flooded her ears, and more streams of tears slid down her cheeks, but Emily said nothing. The darkness was frightening to her, but even so, she was afraid of what she would see if she lit a match. The pounding of her own heart in her ears was enough to make her faint. Now that she thought about it… there were many things that seemed very sinister about the Voice. Things that she never really gave much notice to before. _Like how he tried to make me succumb to him,_ Emily thought, panicked, _Or how he tried to turn me into a monster big enough to fight Lugar. Or when he wanted me to abandon Miskit and Leon on Demon's Head Mountain. How about the time he tried to convince me kill Trellis?_

Oh, God, oh, God. Things were adding up. All these strange behavioural patterns coming from him—the things he tried to convince her were the right things—everything! How could she forget everything he had done? Was it his warmth? His kindness? Or his sly ease in conversation, how he was so capable of changing the subject. He had manipulated her—no, he had lied to her. _AGAIN. _Suddenly, the wet tears crystallized on her dry cheeks, and at that moment, her entire body heated up with rage. Her fists trembling, the fire in her eyes smouldering, smoke practically bursting out her nostrils and ears.

How dare he.

**_HOW _****_DARE_****_ HE LIE TO HER!_**

How dare he play with her feelings! How dare he manipulate her! How dare he exploit her affection! All of a sudden, Emily was shaking with fury. The tears had melted and were streaming, hot and burning, down her livid face. Anymore anger and she may have well popped a blood vessel. She didn't know what was slowing the anger's progress from eating her from the inside out, rotting her core… but suddenly, there was no rage. There was no fury. There was only a deep-seated exhaustion, followed by quiet tears rolling down her cheeks.

So everything… the friendship they shared, the… paternal affection? It was a lie? Did she really have no father-figure in her life? Nothing to fill the empty gap that was once her whole heart? She sniffed, wiping the snot away with her nightgown's sleeve. She felt like a stupid kid again. She felt so naïve and blind. How couldn't she have seen it? Was she so desperate to fix things with someone she secretly trusted and cared about, even when she never truly realized it? _This,_ she reminded herself with disappointment, _is the __thing__ that killed Trellis's father. The thing that made Max's life miserable up until the day he died. The thing that has been haunting Alledia for thousands upon thousands of years._

How did she know that the story he told her wasn't a lie?

Suddenly, there was more hurt in her heart than ever before.

So she sat there and cried.

* * *

"Emily." Leon's voice rang out in her confused, tired mind, and Emily blinked up at her instructor. Everything was hazy and strange; almost darker than it was before. They were standing among the moors of Kanalis; the Luna Moth needed to take a quick pit-stop in the city itself for various reasons she didn't understand. The wind howled and the grass murmured, but she wasn't hearing any of it. The only thing she heard was the faint tinnitus in her ears. Trellis's bleached hair caught the corner of her eye; Emily turned to meet his hardened gaze.

"He did something to you." There was no need to ask who or what; 'he' implied everything they were trying to defeat. Trellis's eyes were shining with concern, no anger for her brash impulse this time. "What did he do, Emily?" There would be no words to describe an action that the Voice hadn't directly done. As her knees buckled, the elf caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. "Obviously something bad." He muttered under his breath. Leon hurried to her side, eyes narrowed and gaunt.

"Emily, did you give in to the stone?" The fox asked her uncertainly, putting his palm against her forehead. Her mouth was dry and parched, throat burning up since her insight last night. The tears were no longer staining her face, but in the heat of the moment, Emily almost felt their cool touch stroking her cheeks. She tried to tell them no—that the Voice had not done anything directly, that she did not, in fact, give in to the stone—but the more she tried to speak, the more her throat tightened and the more she resisted the urge to cry.

So she wound up shaking her head, burying her face into Trellis's arms in an attempt to hide the hot, gushing tears melting down the side of her face. The elf gently patted her head in a genuine understanding, and Leon's ears perked up at the slightest sound of a sob. "Emily," Trellis murmured softly. "Everything's going to be okay. War is scary and confusing. But everything will turn out okay, I promise." How could he be so sure? How could they fight a war when they didn't know who was really the enemy? Was the Voice in league with the Elf King, or against him?

"How do you know that?" Emily retorted stubbornly like a rotten child. Regardless of her bitter response, the elf smiled and pulled her in for a hug.

"I know," he said, "because we aren't fighting on our own. We have friends and family and people who care about us to support us, and we have soldiers willing to fight for us and children who look up to us. It's ultimately our responsibility to _make_ things turn out okay. But we won't be doing that on our own. All of those people—they're going to be fighting for their future too. But us? We're leading the way." Trellis wiped a tear from the girl's dark eyes and rubbed her back gently. "Maybe I don't understand what's shaken your faith," he sighed quietly, "but I understand why it has. You're just a kid, Emily… deep inside, you're terrified of this war. And you're confused because we don't know who the rival is."

"I'm going to find out," Emily choked, "I promise you that." She sniffed, wiping her nose on her right sleeve, pulling away from Trellis with hesitance. Their eyes met and she smiled, almost on the verge of tears again. "You've been like an older brother for me, Trell. Thank you so much." The elf merely brushed a stray hair behind her ear and patted her shoulders reassuringly.

"Alright, little soldier," he joked, "I think that's enough for one day. Wouldn't you agree, Leon?" Leon, who had witnessed the display, nodded solemnly, eyes fixated on Emily's dark brown eyes. He stood a little ways off, but when Trellis rose to his feet, the fox inched forwards and offered the girl a hand to stand up. Gratefully, Emily took it, and she leaned against him as he coiled an arm around her shoulder and rubbed her arm. Together, the three of them took in the grace of the highlands, from the rippling grass to the brilliant showers of sun beaming from the heavens.

It was too nice of an afternoon to waste on lamenting on the past. Emily firmly decided she would no longer—voluntarily—visit the Voice. It would simply be too much for her mind to register—all he did was delay her the truth. Surely that must mean that he was not on her side. She winced at the thought of his fatherly affections, but brushed them off hurriedly. They were just lies, Emily told herself strictly. They were just lies.

She was about to pull away from Leon when the ground shook beneath them, the roaring of flames filling the airs. Emily whipped around just in time to see the city of Kanalis—the one that had nurtured her mother and introduced her to Alledia—was bombed from the skies.

Emily's mouth opened to form a scream, but nothing came out. All she could think of was the people she loved wandering that hellhole. Enzo and Rico were probably at the docks, a safe distance from the commotion, but then there was Miskit. Cogsley. The Resistance' Head Quarters. Emily's heart stopped as she considered one more: _her mother._ "No!" she cried, forcibly ripping from Leon's arms. She tore across the moors in the direction of the melting city, her focused mind only ever concentrated on the danger her mother was in. '_Mom,'_ she thought desperately. '_Hang in there.'_

* * *

Karen skidded around a corner in the midst of the chaos, the flames licking at her blond hair as she pushed past a terrified crowd of people. There were animal men and women and children—all running askew like a derailed train, having no control over where the next course of action would be. They were all running blind with fear, but not Karen. No, she'd been prepared for these moments; Leon had drilled her and Cogsley had given her tips on handling the issue. And now was a good time to snag Miskit and get the hell out of there.

The ground shook with the heavy weight of the bombs. They had to be about the size of her head—but they were also powerful, pummelling people close enough into a fair distance. Karen could hardly stand against the quaking earth beneath her feet, but she knew she had to keep moving. While she listened to the rumble around her, falling cobblestone and debris filling her sight, there was another sound. A sound that sounded almost like slime being sucked down a drain, but louder and in different areas at once. In fact, with each bomb that fell, there was a sound to come with it. _Shlp!_ She listened. _Shlp! Shlp! Shlp!_ What were these noises? She snuck a glance behind her, only to skid to a halt in terror.

Inside these bombs contained small shadow creatures—or what Vigo had called them—being released upon impact with the ground. They quickly floated out of their restraints and reached out for various different citizens, wrapping their slimy pink bodies around the peoples' heads. Karen watched in horror as the shadow creatures manipulated their hostages against their will—and she turned right around and fled with the rest of the mass.

A child crossed her path, seemingly lost among the swarming group of evacuating people, and instinctively she scooped the little mouse into her arms and continued running, ducking into an alley just as another bomb hit. From there, the blond woman caught her breath and cautiously gazed out into the mayhem, her arms wrapped around the small boy protectively.

"Damn…" Karen muttered. "Miskit said he would be in the food market." And yet, there she was, and the little robot was nowhere to be found. Her chest heaved with the delicious air, even when she choked on the ashes and debris that the hailing grenades invoked. The little boy coughed in her arms, and she looked back at him; his whiskers were twitching in apprehension and his round eyes did not leave her. In his fur, the ashes were caught like snow, almost decorating him in a thin blanket of white. "Are you okay, baby?" She asked softly, running her trembling fingers through his fur. The boy only responded with a shaky nod. "That's good," Karen soothed, "but we have to keep moving. Are you a tough little boy?" This time, his trembles were replaced with a defiant nod. She grinned, "Great. Let's go."

They waited for the next set of bombs to bombard the city, then Karen dove out into the havoc and pushed her legs as hard as they could go. The boy crawled over to her back and clung on tightly, looking back into the flames and the melting complexes. "Everything's dead," he told her quietly, disappointedly. Karen nodded, unable to take a breath and explain that as long as he was with her, he was safe. Somehow the crowd had left them behind in pursuit of escape, and now the woman was unsure of where to turn next.

She was about to make a guess and run forward when yet another grenade combusted before them, knocking her off her feet and sending the small boy flying through the air. She screamed for him, reaching out with her arms, but the small mouse was far out of her reach. He skidded across the cobblestone, and they both looked on in horror as a throng of shadow creatures had followed their trail—now facing the two humans in a sea of pink, gooey waves. The little boy paced backwards a little, wincing in pain from his newly-acquired injuries, and looked back helplessly at Karen as the masses of shadow creatures moved in for the kill.

But then, something odd happened.

Another blob of light pink shot out of the sky, floating above the boy and Karen. It looked at them, but only dismissively—it had no intention of repeating the others' motivations. Slowly, it advanced toward the little mouse, going as far as to touch his wound, before shooting up like quicksilver and baring sudden teeth at the throng of other shadow creatures. It let out a long, disapproving hiss, and Karen watched in astonishment as the sea of slime advancing on them shrank back in fear. How had one single shadow creature manage to intimidate an entire army of them? Why would it turn on it's own kind? Why did it not attack them like the rest?

Questions raced through her head, but Karen acted quickly and took advantage of the moment, snagging the boy and dashing out of the area. The shadow creatures gave way for her and made no attempt to follow. She looked back only once, at the single shadow creature—it floated on it's own, staring, watching her. As if it were ensuring her safety. Once it had seen her making eye contact, it nodded to her, as if to say, _it should be alright for now._ And she took it's word for that. The last thing she saw before she turned back and ran for an escape was another human, this time an adolescent, cautiously approaching the shadow creature.

He made no advance towards the girl.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! That was all over the place! I hope it wasn't too confusing for you guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: More and More Questions

Emily panted and stepped past some of the survivors as Leon ushered them a safe distance from the dissolving city. Trellis had gathered the injured and had made plans for them to be tended to; shortly after the explosions, Rico and Enzo had had their airship floated out of the way of destruction and into the company of the stonekeepers. Now it was a matter of time before the entire city was strained under the smouldering ashes, and Emily wasn't about to let it collapse on the one person she vowed she wouldn't lose.

Shovelling past a crew of survivors, the child made her way to the border of the city, watching as the Elf King's airships fled the scene from the skies.

_'Cowards,'_ Emily thought in disgust. They had the audacity to bomb an innocent city, but not the decency to own up to their crimes. It was almost pathetic.

Her lips curled back into a sneer, but crumbling debris reminded her of the reason she had pursued the burning capital. Quickly, she started her journey into the melting buildings and the smoking skies—she choked on the acidic taste of the air.

Before Emily had made it to the first marker—a deserted alleyway consisting of only boxes for what she presumed storage—a hand caught her shoulder and dragged her back.

Staggering for balance, she whirled around in fear, only to see a disapproved Vigo looking down on her with his arms crossed and eyes squinted. With his censure, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Geez, and I thought you were a groul…" Emily sighed and threw her long red hair into a ponytail using the limited string she had, and awaited his lecture about brash impulses. The chastisement, however, never came—she looked up in surprise as he unfolded his arms and stroked his grey beard.

"Whatever has lured you out here must be important," the aged stonekeeper sighed, "So I won't question your motives. It _is_, however, very imprudent that you come out here unprepared—without a filtering mask, your lungs could get tainted from the smoke." Even as he spoke, a cough escaped his mouth; he took a moment to gather himself. Emily narrowed her eyes, taking him in up and down. He wasn't wearing a mask either—he wore only his sunhat and his cape, which was coiled around him strictly like drawn curtains.

His amulet, which sat on his chest, lay undisturbed by the smoke surrounding them.

And yet, despite his efforts to even breathe, Emily felt a tingling sensation of a challenge. And she liked challenges. "What say you, Vigo? Are you coming with me unprepared as well?" Emily tested with a grin. He echoed the small smirk and withdrew energy from his stone; it surrounded them in an aura of a milky green light, and cleared the smoke from their lungs. The girl was almost disappointed that the challenge had been reduced—but nonetheless, as she looked around, the entire alley had been swamped in a thick, ivory white smog. She could hardly see two feet in front of her—how would she find her mother in this state?

"I say we stick together," the elder advised. "In this fog we wouldn't last a minute on our own. There's no telling if it will end up being swarmed with shadow creatures like Lucien was. If you feel the need to scout ahead, don't go far. Do you hear me?" Feeling unapproved, the girl nodded solemnly, but again reminded herself to stick to the plan. She liked her independence, and she liked being the leader, but sometimes you had to step out of the limelight and make room for someone else. To be frank, she probably didn't have a choice in this one.

"It's so foggy…" Emily remarked, uncertain of where her feet were headed. The swirling masses of smog had been caused by the bombing's materials along with the collapsing of a civilization. It chilled her to think about the poor residents who hadn't made it out in time, and she drifted closer to Vigo at the thought of it.

He noticed her weariness and gently wrapped his cloak around the both of them, doing so in silence. There was nothing to be said; he knew very well of what her thoughts consisted and he allowed only for it to distract her from the monsters lurking in the decaying city. "It is difficult to see," he admitted. "I would have thought we would have more time before the dust settled in, but I guess not."

He was interrupted by the sound of rubble rising and rolling down piles of ash and cobble. On instinct, he drew the girl behind him, despite her protests that she was capable of her own well being.

"Hush," the elder demanded quietly. "We don't know what we're up against." The sound was coming from in fort of them, to the left of the alleyway—where a vaguely visible pile of gunpowder and cobblestone was sitting. Half-hidden in the stack was the shell of a large grenade—about the size of Emily's head—nestled in between the wreckage. The shell rolled like marble in a palm, cracking as it moved, until the sleek feature of a shadow creature rose from the mound, seemingly savaging for something prior to their intrusion. A chill rose along her spine, and Vigo forced her back.

"It's not safe for us to be out here," he said, taking a defensive pose as the cherry blob of slime advanced towards the duo. "You should go." He told her firmly, ignoring her protests about her mother. Emily stood stubbornly where she was, lashing out with her neon-pink energy to destroy the shadow creature—but someone, out of the darkness, jumped in the way to defend the creature, and took the hit instead.

"No!"

The new arrival cried in desperation. "Don't hurt him!" The voice was feminine and young, perhaps only a bit older than Emily herself. The stranger splayed her arms out wide as she stood in front of the pink blob, who looked at her only in the faintest surprise, but it had a calm essence with it that soothed even Emily.

_'Wait a minute,'_ Emily thought, squinting at the creature. _'This calmness… it feels familiar.'_ She looked to the girl, who remained frozen on the spot, eyes fiery and narrowed. "If you kill him, you'll have to kill me too." The visitor growled.

Emily wasn't having any of that. While the new girl was protecting her creature, the young stonekeeper forced a smile, despite the threat that was being defended from them. "What's your name?" Emily asked, her fears unexpectedly vanquished by the calm that the shadow creature brought with it. She stepped out from behind Vigo and approached the girl slowly, unsure of whether she would feel threatened by Emily's presence. Sure enough, the ash-riddled outsider paced backwards a little by intimidation, and ironically the shadow creature protected her instead.

Said shadow narrowed his eyes at Emily warningly, as if telling her not to advance. Heeding it's advice, Emily paused, halfway from closing the distance between them, before she eventually looked the shadow creature directly in the eye—and caught her breath, almost disturbed at what she found there. There was a familiar look, or feeling, pulsing from him; an entity, almost… Emily took a wobbly step back, feeling the chills travel down her spine. The unnamed human looked out from behind her ally, almost hesitantly, before she could speak. "My name is Trisha. Trisha Spring."

_Trisha._

Emily's eyes widened slightly. "You were one of Navin's colleagues, weren't you? How in the name of God did you get all the way over here? Riva said you'd disappeared!" There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but the looks of Trisha were not well. She looked almost sickly, covered in grime and ashes, and—unnoticed by Emily before—she was wheezing. Even as Emily spoke, the girl fell to her knees in a fit of coughing. Instinctively, the young stonekeeper ran forward, regardless of the shadow creature's apt warning and Vigo's objection.

Trisha held her throat weakly as spittle flew from her mouth uncontrollably, spewing in all directions at once. Emily ran her hand along her back, trying to soothe the older girl as much as she could—by all means, she couldn't do a lot, but this was as much as she could. "Emily…" Vigo warned. "She may have something contagious." Emily scoffed and sported a doubtful look as she kneeled down next to Trisha. The coughing had died down, but she didn't feel like it was something to be glad about—the ash-stained girl before her had been drained of most of her energy.

"… Voice…" Trisha whispered hoarsely. Voice? Had she lost her voice? It sure as hell sounded like it. Emily kneeled beside her and rested her hand on Trisha's bony shoulder. Whatever had happened between now and the attack on Lucien had effected Trisha gravely; the sounds of her raspy breaths had Emily slightly unnerved.

"Trisha? Are you okay? What happened at Lucien?" Emily couldn't help but blurt the thread of questions taking form in her mind. The poor girl looked so delirious and it was hard to look at. '_You could stop looking,'_ she reminded herself grimly, but the thought seemed ill and distasteful. Instead, the red headed child helped Trisha to her feet, feeling the earth spin beneath them both. The shadow creature seemed perturbed by the rumbling background noise, and gave a thorough look around the area, but there was nothing to be seen.

And, to Emily's surprise, the shadow creature spoke.

"_We_ _must hurry, Trisha. I feel something amiss._" He urged. Emily's head shot up to look at him in astonishment, for more reasons than one, but none were valid enough to speak of at that moment. Trisha wrestled—for control over her own body than out of Emily's support—and staggered to the shadow creature obediently. "_Are you capable?_" He asked her politely; she responded with a feeble but defiant nod. "_Swell. Let's go._"

The shadow gracefully drifted on the remains of wind; Trisha wobbled after him, but one of her legs seemed like wax. Emily felt herself longing to call out to them, to cry anything, knowing that so many of her questions would go unanswered if she didn't—but ultimately, she didn't need to. It wasn't long before Trisha's knees crumbled and buckled, sending her skidding into the ashes and the debris. Instantly, Emily hurried forward to help her up.

"You should come with us. We can take care of you." Emily insisted plainly, not having much to argue for them to stay. She felt a little uneasy around the shadow creature, but it hadn't attacked them yet; that had to be a good thing.

"No." Trisha grunted, having regained some of her spark back. "We have to get to Valcor… We _have _to." _Valcor?_ Why would they ever want to go there? It was a hellhole! Even Trellis thought the gang was on a suicide mission. Emily watched in disbelief as the fiery girl rose to her feet and tottered for balance. Everything seemed like a haze; it was no surprise when Trisha once again fell to her knees. She hissed in frustration. "Why can't I… walk…?"

"_You are weak, Trisha._" The shadow creature drifted back quietly and settled next to her. "_You lied to me. You said you were capable. Do not lie about your health, child._" Emily felt her gaze fixate on him; clearly he noticed and returned the look. She glanced away quickly, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks. The shadow once again attended his focus onto Trisha, whose eyes were fluttering closed gradually. "_You need rest…" _He murmured gently. "_Humans need sleep. You are no different. Do not push yourself for my sake._"

"Come with us."

Emily glanced to the speaker, Vigo, in shock. "What the hell are you thinking?" She asked hotly. "That's a damn shadow creature!" Trisha looked up at her sharply, but said nothing; same went for the shadow himself. He looked at Emily tenderly, and it seemed to tame the red-haired child's anger, despite the resulting feeling being shame. Vigo gave her a look of disapproval, and she melted into her own brooding.

"Emily, it's clear that they have no intentions of harming us. We need answers and we also share a similar goal; to get to Valcor. There's plenty of room on the Luna Moth." Vigo reasoned sternly. Emily pulled her top lip into a sneer and grumbled under her breath.

"I don't think Trellis is going to like the looks of the shadow creature, Vigo." And that was all she said.

With that, the elder turned to both spirit and human, ignoring Emily's fuming glares. "What say you? Will you accept our help and transportation?" Trisha feebly exchanged a glance with her accomplice and nodded. Vigo approached the duo, scooping the weak child into his arms, while the shadow creature tagged along as the four of them made their way back, Emily falling in behind—unfortunately with the shadow creature.

She felt the tingling sensation of anxiety travel down her spine. They'd come here for her mother, but they'd left with someone else. Who knew where her mother was at this point? She chewed her lip and looked down at her feet, tears pricking her eyes. What if her mother was dead? She swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to bear the thought of being an orphan. She ignored the thick gushing tears rolling down the sides of her face.

Something soft reached out and stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears. She looked briefly in its direction to see the shadow giving her a look of pity, using his appendages to stroke the side of her face soothingly. "_Your mother is safe,_" He murmured in her ear. "_I made sure of that._"

She didn't know how he read her mind, or how he knew her mother, or anything at all really, but Emily decided she would take the comfort until she had some answers.

* * *

**In a distant memory…**

_"Silas…" The Voice said, slightly disturbed at the man's proposition. It seemed utterly absurd and he wasn't quite sure it would go as the man was so convinced it would. "I do not believe this will carry out as you think, Silas." He tried to break it to Silas as best as he could, but the man gave him an impatient glare. _

_"Oh?" He demanded, clearly out of options. "How do you suppose we go about it, then? Do we dilly dally until the world burns? Come on, Voice. You know this is the only option we have left. We can make it work, I know we can." While the spirit admired Silas's determination and fiery will, the Voice had been around for thousands upon thousands of years… he had been witness to human nature and how easily it could succumb to the slightest taste of power. Usually, after such an experience, he did not engage in human affairs, but this time…_

_"I know," the Voice promised. "I know you think that. But you haven't seen Man's nature like I have, Silas. Man is weak; you give way for any high power you can get your hands on. It's been that way since the beginning. Even your young understand that social standards and status holds some kind of authority that would intrigue them. Who's to say your kin will not yield to this pattern as well?" Silas narrowed his eyes but remained silent, thinking his position over._

_"I could raise them away from Alledia," Silas realized. "I could raise them on Earth. Their perspectives on warfare will be different and distant, but they will not be power-hungry." The Voice considered it. The Elf King had slowly been growing more and more distant from reality, often talking to voices he hears; it was not long before he turned corrupt. Silas's idea seemed plausible._

_"I agree," the Voice smiled. _

_But there was something off about his smile, and Silas knew it. The man reached out to brush the spirit's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry I had to drag you into this," Silas murmured. "You've lived a never-ending nightmare and now you're engaging in one. I know you don't like playing a role in human affairs, but this story needs you to. __I__ need you to. Even if I die, I want you to see this plan through, no matter what. I realize you don't like it… but please, trust me." Silas finished quietly and gave the Voice a rueful stare. _

_And who'd be a humble spirit to argue with Silas?_

_"Fine." The spirit uttered. "But don't do me any favors."_


End file.
